


The Restoration of Steve Rogers

by Superfluous_Gypsy



Series: Kinks Series [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Comic Book Science, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 23:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superfluous_Gypsy/pseuds/Superfluous_Gypsy
Summary: "This was Steve's end game the entire time!" Tony shouted. "If he wasn't playing around with changing the way his body looked or worked, than he was pining for the past. Put those two fixations together and add good ol' Bucky Barnes to the mix, and this is what you get! I always knew I was playing second fiddle to a dead man. I just let myself be blindsided by the fact that the dead man wasn't actually dead."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Um... plot happened in my PWP kink series? I had to get skinny!Steve in here somehow. And WS Bucky, because he is a more interesting character than pre-war Bucky. No magical fix-it for damaged!Bucky, but don't try to diagnose him as depicted in this story, because dude is all kinds of effed up. Comic book psychology FTW!
> 
> If you're looking for porn, no one has sex in this fic. Next one, I promise: Bucky will get boners. Threesome will happen.

Everything was falling into place. Tony had left for a tech conference in Japan that would keep him out of New York for nearly two weeks. The Winter Soldier (Bucky?) had been captured by JARVIS' facial recognition program on two security cameras within two blocks and two days of each other. Clint and Natasha had gone home to the farm for Clint's and one of the kids' birthdays. 

Bruce, Steve, and JARVIS were left alone. 

While they couldn't figure out to counteract whatever the Vita-Rays had done, Bruce had been able to put together something he believed would flush the serum-mutated cells from his blood. They just needed a dialysis machine, medical grade tubing, and about 15 liters of blood. 

(Turned out Coulson knew a guy. {Turned out Coulson hadn't died. That fact hadn't fazed Steve too much- it was the future, after all. He had been more upset and angry when he discovered Candy Crush's insidiously evil M.O. of addictive micro-transactions.}) 

So now it was the time for Steve to make the big decision. Would he take the gamble and try to de-serum himself? 

"If he's in the city, I think you should give it one more try to break through his conditioning and have him recognize you," Bruce said, trying to talk him out of it yet again. 

Steve wondered if the scientist had dithered as much when deciding to experiment on himself with gamma rays, or if his tedious caution was a post-Hulk thing. "I've tried six times. Now he just recognizes me as the asshole in the blue suit who keeps trying to not kill him. I think that this is the only way." 

"Except you refuse to let Tony capture him with Veronica. That seems like a much safer option to me," Bruce pointed out for the hundredth time. 

"There are instructions for him to kill himself if he is captured and can't break out within a certain amount of time. I don't want to risk it," Steve said. 

"But you do want to risk your health and your life for the smallest chance that Bucky will magically remember you if you're scrawny Steve again. Are you sure he's worth it? Do you think _Bucky_ would think you reverting back to how you were would be worth it?" 

Steve's expression remained mulish. "He wouldn't. Bucky's the only person who would sacrifice himself for me, against all logic. And I'm the only one who would do the same for him." 

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Really? Aren't you forgetting Tony?" 

Steve shook his head. "It's not like we're in love. Besides, Tony's the most self-centered man on the planet. He wouldn't sacrifice himself for anyone." 

Bruce sighed. "I thought you would have seen through that bullshit by now." 

"What bullshit?" 

"Never mind. I'm not getting in the middle of your relationship. Or, at least, I refuse to be your therapist. Have you at least told Tony you were considering doing this?" 

"No." 

" _Steve!_ " Bruce said, making his displeasure unmistakable. "I refuse to help you do this until you tell your boyfriend what you're planning on doing. What if it kills you? Isn't there anything you want to make sure to tell him?" 

"My _boyfriend?_ " Steve said, twisting his face to make it look like he was questioning Bruce's sanity. "He's busy. He wouldn't answer if I called him anyway." 

"Still. I'm drawing the line." Bruce held his hands up and stepped away from Steve. "Figure this out, talk to your boyfriend, and then- _maybe-_ I'll help you do this risky procedure." 

"JARVIS, can you contact Tony?" Steve asked. 

"Connecting." A window popped up on one of the flatscreens. Tony was in his private jet, and seemed to be alone. 

"Hey, sugar tits!" Tony smirked as Steve's ears turned red. "Bruce. What's up? Stevie Wonderballs giving you a hard time? You've got your headache face on." 

"Talk to your boyfriend, Stark. He's ready to make a stupid decision." 

"What kind of decision? Elucidate, blondie." 

"Bucky's here in New York." 

Tony looked somewhat resigned but not surprised. "And you're going to go stick your face in that pile of crazy. Again. Call in backup. Wilson- the bird one, not the turd one. Sam. Do not call Wade. Do not even _think_ about calling Wade, 'cause he tends to know whenever anyone thinks about him. Which is even creepier than what he does with that stuffed unicorn he has. Call Sharon. Call fucking _Reed Richards_ if you can't get anyone else." 

"Tony-" Steve tried to cut in. 

"It's worse than that," Bruce butted in. "Your boyfriend-" 

" _Mio ragazzo, per favore,_ " Tony corrected. "I prefer a term with a bit more dignity." Steve was opening and closing his mouth like a fish, but thankfully Tony was focused on Bruce. 

"Your ragazzo, then, wants to de-serum himself." 

"I think Bucky will remember me better if I look like I did before the war," Steve explained quickly. 

Tony covered his face with his hands. Steve interpreted the gesture as one of exasperation, but Bruce was wondering if Tony was trying to hide something that cut deeper. 

Steve pushed his agenda. "Bucky would risk his life to save me. He did, in fact! It's not just that I owe him, it's also that I am the only person who is on his side. Everyone else he knows is dead, Hydra, or both. If I have the smallest chance of getting him back, I want to take it." 

Tony's hands fell from his face. His expression was grave. He gestured to someone off screen, then folded his arms across his chest. "Steve 'n Bucky versus the world. Looks like that's never gonna change. How confident are you that this... de-seruming will go as hoped?" 

Bruce shrugged. "Maybe sixty percent. The radiation that was used, and its effects, are still unknown." 

"And will it be permanent?" 

Bruce shrugged again. "We have a lot of Steve's blood in storage. I don't know if reintroducing the serum-enhanced cells back into his body will work. It would just be a shot in the dark." 

Tony turned his gaze back to Steve, who was looking less confident than he had been before the call. "It's your choice. Just think about what the consequences will be if you lose everything that Rebirth gave you." 

"'Everything special about me came out of a bottle.' I know," Steve replied. 

Tony tried to stifle a wince. A woman's hand and sleeve came into view to put a napkin and tumbler of alcohol onto the table in front of Tony. "That's not true. And I have said that I'm sorry that I said that. But you won't have the role you have now in the Avengers if you're likely to topple over at a sneeze. Maybe, if you keep your strategic knowledge and intuition, you can direct ops by comm, but you sure won't be jumping out of any more planes. You like the fight, Steve; are you really prepared to give that up?" 

Steve set his jaw. "You make a good point. But getting Bucky back will be worth it." 

Tony looked back down at the liquid in his glass for a few seconds, then abruptly leaned back and swallowed it all down. He carefully set the tumbler back on the table and ran the back of his hand across his mouth before saying, "Then I hope everything works out. We're getting into Japanese air space, so I've gotta end the call. Talk to you later." 

Steve looked at Bruce. Bruce said, "You could tell he's upset about this idea, right?" 

"Yes." 

"From his perspective, you are choosing Bucky over him. Not even Bucky- just the hope that you can get the guy back." 

"Why is it a choice?" Steve looked confused. 

"You are dumping Tony so you can resurrect your former lover. Why shouldn't Tony be upset?" 

* * *

Miley (How old could she be, anyway? 23?) gave Tony a sympathetic look as she refilled his tumbler. He looked out the jet's window, but the sky was dark and just showed him the reflection of a sad, middle-aged man. Albeit, a middle-aged man in a custom tailored $6,000 suit. Looking closely, he could see sagging skin and the effects of years of heavy drinking. 

Really, it was a wonder that the pinnacle of human perfection had committed to him for so long. Steve had had the upper hand in their relationship the whole time; if they broke things off, he could only move on to a better class of companions. It was probably that Tony had been so enthusiastic about trying new things that they had been hooking up for so long. 

Not to mention how convenient it was that they lived in the same building, had the same friends, and both tended to not go out in public much because of their fame. Tony was already providing lodging, food, entertainment, Wi-Fi, and everything else, so why not sexual services, too? 

Well, Tony promised, whatever came next he would try to take it with grace and dignity. He never had either in his life, so why not give it a shot. Act his age. Be a bro, not hold a grudge, and support a former fuckbuddy who had the chance at reuniting with his One True Love after more than half a century. That was a romance that trumped any of that Titanic, Nicholas Sparks shit, and Tony would man up and give his teammate whatever he needed to recapture the famous Bucky Barnes. 

He watched himself down another glass of scotch. He would have to do something about that face in the window. 

"JARVIS, pull up that Extremis data." 

* * *

The de-seruming was successful, and Steve was back to his old self. Bruce wanted him to take a few days to process the change and get reaccustomed to his scrawny body, but Steve wanted to get started on tracking his old friend down. 

Steve went to the part of the city where Bucky had been seen. He didn't have a plan, just figured he would have some time to scout out the area before his old friend stuck his neck out again. 

So to say they were both surprised to turn a corner and met face to face is an understatement. 

"B-Bucky," Steve huffed out, turning his face up to gauge the man's reaction. 

Bucky's eyes were wide with shock. "Steve!" He hissed. Bucky grabbed Steve by an arm and pulled him down an alley. "You shouldn't be here." 

"Where should I be?" Steve shot back. He could feel his old inferiority complex ramping his emotions into defense mode. He felt like one of those small yappy dogs women carried around the city in fancy purses or strollers. 

"There's a maniac in a stupid costume who keeps running me down. It's not safe to be with me." 

Steve almost felt guilty at how confused and victimized Bucky felt. He rubbed the back of his neck ruefully."Yeah, that idiot in the blue suit won't be bugging you anymore." 

"Blue?" Bucky held Steve against the wall with one hand while he kept sweeping their surroundings with a keen, paranoid gaze. "Nah, that guy's weird, but I'm talking about the red one. The robot." 

Steve's eyes widened. "Iron Man? Iron Man has been going after you? Doing what?" 

"Sayin' nonsense 'bout you. Tryin' to give me food'n clothes." 

Abruptly, Steve's body was infused with a warm glow. Tony had been trying to lure Bucky in, too? The only reason he could have been doing it was for him. "What kind of food?" 

"Cannolis. Like the Petrellis used to make, remember?" 

Steve grinned, "Of course I remember. You would buy those whenever you had a quarter to spare." Except for the tense vigilance of his friend, this felt unbelievably like old times. 

"Hey, Buck, you know what year it is?" 

"2014. 'Least, that's what all the newspapers say." 

"Yeah." Steve was both reassured and not that Bucky was cognizant enough to know where and when he was. Did he realize how much time had passed? "How did we get here? Do you know?" 

His friend's face hardened, and he put a hand over Steve's mouth. "We need to get somewhere safe. Stay here." Bucky went further down the alley, leapt vertically up about ten feet to grab a fire escape, and lowered the ladder. "Come on." 

Steve followed him up to the roof. On the other side of the building, Bucky jumped down one story to a tiny, rickety balcony, then beckoned to Steve. In the back of Steve's mind he noted that he was relieved that he hadn't subconsciously fully absorbed the change in his physical fitness, because he walked off that roof like he was still 200+ pounds of super soldier. Bucky caught him, but the impact of the metal arm on his body was gonna leave a major bruise. They hopped down another floor, before Bucky jimmied a window open. 

"Stay here while I check things out." He crept through the window and seemed to check some booby traps he had rigged, as well as every cupboard and closet before telling Steve it was okay. 

The room was a studio apartment. A futon cushion was tucked into a corner on the floor, there was a battery-powered radio and police scanner, and a large duffle bag along with a familiar backpack. The door to the closet was off its hinges and propped up horizontally against the wall next to the closet doorway, and the bathroom could be seen through an open door. 

Steve turned when he heard Bucky close and lock the window. 

"How long have you been living here?" 

"Take your clothes off, Steve." 

Steve was not expecting that. "Wh-what? Why?" He turned around to face Bucky. 

Bucky's eyes were cold. There was a gun in his hand, pointing at Steve. "Clothes," he ordered. 

Steve started stripping. It was almost embarrassing to be naked back in this form, with his ribs and pale skin on display. "Okay. Now what?" 

"Toss 'em in the bathtub." 

Steve did as he was ordered to, dropping the bundle into the half-full tub. There was an old toaster perched on the edge, plugged into the wall. "Push it in. If there's anything electronic, I want it to fry." 

"I wasn't wearing any bugs or wires, Buck! Jesus!" But he followed directions, then turned around and crossed his arms over his scrawny chest. "What the hell?" 

Thankfully, Bucky thumbed the pistol's safety back on and tucked the gun away. "It's been over seventy years. You suddenly show up. Can't take things on faith after what I've been through." 

"Can I leave the bathroom, now? You gonna give me anything to wear? I'm fucking freezing." 

"Sure, pal," Bucky said, like it was a normal day back in the thirties. He tossed Steve a blanket from the futon as Steve came back into the room. 

Steve cocooned himself in the blanket and sat on the floor against a bare wall. "How're ya doin'?" It was going to take a few minutes for him to warm up enough to stop the shivers. 

Bucky shrugged. "Metal arm now. That's new. Or not. Things are pretty fuzzy." 

"The Russians found you in the mountains," Steve said, "After you fell from the-" 

"Train, yeah. I've been having dreams 'bout that. Nightmares, really, I guess. I thought the Russians were our allies?" 

"Not for long after the war. But you were picked up by some top secret faction. They gave you the metal arm. Tortured you. Froze you, sold you to Hydra." 

"I noticed the guys trying to get me were Hydra. It was hard to overlook when every time one of 'em died, they'd say 'heil Hydra.'" Steve found himself relieved by the normal, dry humor. 

"Iron Man is not Hydra. Captain America isn't either." 

Bucky shrugged again. "Doesn't really matter. I ain't about to let anyone get their mitts on me when I haven't been able to piece together what has happened for seven fucking decades." 

Steve's shivers were less intense, but he wasn't anywhere close to warm. "Makes sense." 

"Geez, Steve, get over here and I'll help ya warm up." Bucky sat on the mattress and Steve scrambled over to tuck himself next to him as Bucky rearranged the blanket around them. 

"Mmmm, I've missed ya, Buck." 

"Y' look exactly the same. How d'you explain that?" 

"'Member the Howling Commandos?" 

There was a minute of quiet, then Bucky said, "Dum Dum. With the moustache." 

Steve nodded, and listed the other guys and their chief traits. "I was there, too." 

Bucky laughed. "Who let you into the war, short stuff?" 

"Captain America. Remember?" 

Bucky repeated the name thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Oh, wait. Big, blond guy." 

"Yup. That was me." 

Bucky nudged him with a shoulder. "Liar. Impossible. Why are saying this?" 

Steve frowned. Maybe Hydra had managed to separate his Captain America identity from his Steve Rogers one in Bucky's mind. Maybe Bucky had done it himself, to resist spilling intel during interrogation. Steve decided that he if he was going to try to fix that schism he would need physical proof. Maybe once he got Bucky to SHIELD, Coulson could make one of his PowerPoint slideshows. 

"Never mind. Anyway, I ended up getting frozen, too." 

He could hear Bucky's amused grin. "What, by walking into the icebox at Woolworths?" 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yes, Buck. I wanted ice cream in the middle of winter. The door closed, and by the time they opened the icebox it was summer, and they couldn't figure out how to defrost me." 

"Punk," Bucky said, laughing. 

"Jerk," Steve said back, eyes misting with tears. 

Steve ended up dozing cuddled up to Bucky. He woke up when Bucky started to move enough to wake him. He didn't think Bucky had slept, but he had kept still enough not to wake Steve up for a long time, so he took that as a positive sign. 

It was late afternoon, and the winter sun had already set. Steve sat up and stretched his sore neck and back. "I should get going." 

"Where?" Bucky said, looking at him with a challenge in his eyes. 

"Home," Steve said. Bucky stared at him silently. "What? I do have a home." 

"Where?" Bucky repeated. Steve opened his mouth to answer, but then realized that "Stark Tower" would not be a great answer. Except for the Avengers' apartments, it was a commercial building, for one, and Tony Stark, a.k.a. Iron Man, lived there, too. 

Bucky's sharp gaze noticed Steve's hesitation. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You are staying here until whoever sent you comes for us." 

"Nobody sent me!" 

The Winter Soldier's coldness was back in his expression. "Really, Stevie? You just time travelled?" 

"Of course not; but I figured I wanted to show you proof that I was telling you the truth when I told you the story!" 

"How willing are you to commit to the part?" 

Steve blinked. "Huh?" 

"I assume you got the full background of Steve Rogers and James Barnes. I admit that you've done a good job of playing him. But are you willing to commit to this act, and go the full distance?" 

"The full distance of _what?_ " 

Bucky tucked hair back behind his ear. They were still sitting side-by-side; Steve still naked, and feeling very unprepared for this conversation. 

"Steve and I were _lovers_ ," Bucky said, with a fierce expression. Steve thought maybe he was hiding hurt? "Did whoever sent you here tell you that? Are you willing to be _fucked_ to get whatever the people who are paying you asked you to get?" 

Steve took both of Bucky's hands and twisted their fingers together. "Buck, of course we were lovers. I jerked you off for the first time when we were fourteen. You gagged when you first tried to give me oral sex, and then refused to try again for almost a year, and it drove me crazy!" 

Bucky pulled his hands away, turned his face from Steve's beseeching look, and stood up to walk to the kitchen area. "I have trouble with my memory, kid, but I still have common sense. I don't look the same, and you sure as hell _shouldn't_ look the same after seventy years." 

"I did look different. You recognized me on a helicarrier in D.C. when you were sent to kill me, then saved my life intead. Since then, I've met you about five more times, but you didn't know who I was again. So, I decided that maybe if I looked like this again, that would work. And it has, except that now you think I'm a spy or a decoy, or something." 

Bucky pulled a laptop from a drawer in the kitchen and turned it on. After a few minutes, he said, "Helicarrier in D.C.?" 

Steve nodded, and watched as Bucky presumably googled it. He clicked a few times, did some reading, then turned the screen to face Steve. "You're saying that's you," he said flatly. 

Steve began to stand, pausing in a crouch as Bucky whipped the gun out. "My eyes aren't so good. I gotta get closer to see it." He was allowed to straighten up and approach the computer. "Yes. That's Captain America. That's me." 

Bucky snorted. "Bullshit. You would need about three of you to fill that suit." 

Steve's patience broke. "Just fucking google 'Captain America Steve Rogers,' asshole." He threw his hands up and turned around. "I need to use the bathroom. Am I allowed to close the door?" 

"Knock yourself out," Bucky said, busy with the laptop. 

Steve stomped angrily into the bathroom and slammed the door. There wasn't any window. He wished he had been smart enough to have brought an earpiece or tracker with him. If he couldn't convince Bucky that he was telling the truth, things would get hairy. Either Bucky would torture and/or kill him; or SHIELD would search for him, break down the door, and kill the Winter Soldier before shrimpy Steve could stop them. 

He used the facilities, then unplugged the toaster, wrung his clothes out, and draped them over the bare shower curtain rod to start drying. He was still working on his jeans, when there was a soft knock on the door. He slung the trousers over the bar then opened it. 

Bucky was there, looking confused but nonviolent. "It makes sense, but I don't remember you ever looking like that," he gestured to the computer. 

"They fucked with your head for a long time. You managed to once, though. Maybe take a closer look." Steve stepped up to the other man and lifted his face up. "My face didn't change that much. You saw some photos of me with my cowl off, right?" 

Bucky nodded, and tugged him by the wrist into the kitchenette. He had a full-size picture of Captain America with his cowl down, working to remove rubble after the battle of New York. He looked between the two of them for a minute. "...I can see it." 

* * *

Bruce kept Tony updated over the next few days after that first video call. Tony drank whiskey when Bruce let him know that Steve had decided to go through the de-seruming; bourbon when he was notified that Steve had gone into a coma; more scotch two days later when Steve woke up- skinny, weak, and asthmatic, but the MRI had revealed that the mass of or electricity patterns in Steve's super brain hadn't changed. 

When Bruce called to tell Tony that Steve had gone out to do recon in the area Barnes had been sighted and hadn't returned by the next morning, Tony ordered the jet refueled and sent a hostess to get him coffee. He then pulled up the readings from the infra-red sensor he had installed on the building across from Barnes' bolthole. 

There were two blobs of human size very close together on one corner of the crappy apartment. Tony watched just long enough to see them both move before shutting off the feed, then called Bruce to tell him to call off the manhunt. 

"You knew where Barnes was?" Bruce asked. 

"I knew when he came back into the city on the evening of the fifth. I never let him know that I knew where he was sleeping, though I did set up a few monitoring devices." 

"Monitoring devices," Bruce repeated flatly. "You could have just told that to Steve! Then maybe he wouldn't have decided to get de-serumed!" 

"Calm down, Jolly Green; he wants his friend's mind back. It would've led to this eventually." 

"It could have stalled him and given me time for testing the procedure more thoroughly and running simulations of the effects!" 

"This was Steve's end game the entire time!" Tony shouted back at Bruce. "If he wasn't playing around with changing the way his body looked or worked, than he was pining for the past. Put those two fixations together and add good ol' Bucky Barnes to the mix, and this is what you get! He and Barnes are going to leave everything with a whiff of combat to it, and shack up to play _The 1940s House: Brooklyn Edition_." 

Bruce's eyes got sad. "Tony-" 

"I'm stopping you there. I always knew I was playing second fiddle to a dead man. I just let myself be blindsided by the fact that the dead man wasn't actually dead. That's it; no 'poor Tony.' I'll have JARVIS relay the feeds from the surveillance around Barnes' love nest to you. I recommend you always start with the IR, first. Oh, wait, you do enjoy watching, so have at it." 

* * *

Bucky studied Steve for almost two hours. It was thorough and almost invasive. 

_I remember this freckle. You always did chew your nails. Are you still ticklish when I do this?_

Finally, it seemed like he was convinced, and they settled next to each other on the futon, Steve wearing borrowed clothes. 

"So you said Iron Man has been around," Steve said. 

"The guy in the armor? Or is it a robot?" 

"Tony's a person. A friend, actually." 

Bucky lifted his eyebrows. "And he didn't tell you that he's been surveilling me practically since I moved in?" 

Steve sat up. "Really? He's known where you're been this whole time?" 

"Got three different kinds of cameras mounted across the alley. I didn't mess with them, because he would just be sneakier about it the next time. Have some safeguards in place, though. Countermeasures. But he never tried to force his way in or seemed to have passed the info along to anyone else who has." 

"You also said he tried to give you food?" 

"Bribes. Something about going over to the bright side and cake." 

"The light side," Steve corrected idly. "He has that on one of his coffee mugs." 

"Oh, he's that kind of friend, huh?" 

Steve shrugged one bony shoulder. "It was just fooling around." 

Bucky's blue gaze was slightly mocking and very familiar. "Steve, I'm willing to bet that nothing is ever 'just fooling around' with you." 

"Google Tony Stark. Everything is just fooling around with him. I cared for him enough that I didn't want to pressure him." 

"'Cared?'" Bucky repeated. "When did you two stop fondue-ing?" 

Steve hunkered down under the blankets and rolled to face away. "Shut up. But it was right up until I decided to make this last-ditch effort to get you to talk to me." 

They both were quiet for a long time. 

"If you had a good thing goin' with this guy, why'd you throw it all away to risk your life on the hope that you could magically cure me of decades of brainwashing?" 

"...That's very similar to what my friend Bruce said." 

"So what did you tell him?" 

"That Tony refuses to truly care about anyone but himself." 

"...So you know you lied, at least." 

Again, Steve was surprised. He turned back around. "What?" 

"You did that hunching your shoulders thing you always did when you knew you were wrong or just being a fucktard." 

Steve made a face. "I knew you would enjoy the depraved depths of the internet. And how do you remember so much, anyway?" 

"Your plan, probably. I guess seeing your stupid face attached to that knock-kneed body really did the trick after all. I mean, my brain is a vast attic filled with random things like rifle specs, submarine instrument panels, and the fact that I can't trust anyone, but I am finding it a bit easier to think like Bucky Barnes." 

" _You are-_ " 

"Shut it. You ain't who you were seventy years ago, and neither am I. In fact, from the files your girl leaked, I was awake more than you. More time for me to change. But let's get back to Tony. At least you weren't completely oblivious that he had feelings for you." 

"We fucked," Steve said shortly. 

"Your guy gave me a box full of cannoli and told me you had mentioned once that they had been my favorite. He told me that little Steve from Brooklyn still needed me to have his back; that you were still picking fights, but on much bigger bullies, and he hoped I could pull myself together enough to pull you out the fire someday. 

"Looking back, he did have a similar kicked-puppy/martyr look to yours. Hang on," Bucky got up and went to unzip the backpack. He pulled out something then returned to hand them to Steve. Steve discovered they were photos of him: a copy of his Rebirth intake photo, shirtless and pathetic; a publicity shot of him and Bucky on a respite from the war in London; and a picture Tony must have taken not too long ago of Steve, asleep with his mouth hanging open unattractively. The backs were marked with their respective years, and Tony had also scrawled "You must be missing this" on the newest one. 

"I couldn't make sense of the meaning of these. It was you, then me and some guy from the war, then that guy snoring his face off." 

"He was really trying to help," Steve said, curling in on himself. 

"Hey, you're doing those guilty shoulders again." 

* * *

"Vegas? Really, Tony?" 

"I already ordered us some Celine tickets, Pep! Won't it be nice to take a vacation?" 

* * *

The jet had nearly reached the west coast when Bruce texted Tony a time and link. He was curious, but the time was only about 20 minutes off, so he managed to keep his curiosity reined in until two minutes before whatever it was was supposed to begin. 

The link was to the heavily encrypted feed of one the HD cameras he'd set to monitor Barnes' apartment. The device had been moved inside, but there was a card or something propped up blocking everything but a sliver of a ceiling. At the appointed time, the card was moved out of the way to reveal Barnes' face. The dark glower of the Winter Soldier had softened into a look of unholy glee, and Tony felt his insides go liquid with fear for Steve. 

"So, _Tony_ ," Barnes drawled in an overly friendly way. "Our guy Steve told me what's been goin' on." 

Tony missed the next few words because Pepper asked, "Who are you talking to?" and Tony had to wave her back to her seat with some vicious shushing noises. 

"...it worked. Well, I'm still fucked up in the head enough to require the services of a battalion of corpsmen, but I've got enough memory and reason to see that Stevie's still a headstrong little cunt." 

There was a whine, and Barnes looked over the camera to say, "No protesting, Rogers. Anyway, Stark, he told me about your little arrangement. I figured I'm partially to blame for his emotional stupidity, so I thought I would offer you an apology. Of sorts," A wicked smirk slashed across Barnes' face. "As well as a punishment for Captain America over here. Ready?" The image from the camera whirled as it was moved, before it was set on another surface. Tony's fingers tightened on the arms of his chair as he saw Steve, tiny, naked, and defenseless, tied up on the floor of what was definitely not Barnes' flophouse. Barnes came into view and took a seat on a chair in the middle of the frame, picked up Steve, and set him crosswise face down over his lap. 

"We ain't done nothing but talk and cuddle, yet, so no reason for you to get jealous," Barnes said to the camera. "But he told me how he likes you to touch him. I'm not sure how good I can remember, Stevie," he added to the fragile blond, stroking his floppy hair and playing up his ignorant persona, "so every time I do something that feels good, I want you to moan out the name of the fella you love best. When I do something that doesn't feel so good, you're gonna apologize. Apologize and beg for his forgiveness. Just like we talked about." He untied the makeshift cloth gag from around Steve's head. 

Tony gritted his teeth, preparing for the worst emotional torture he had ever endured (from the monster that gave seasoned spies and assassins nightmares: the Winter Soldier himself), and pulled out his phone to text Bruce "SAVE STEVE ASAP," but found his eyes riveted on the window on his tablet. 

Barnes' metal hand left Steve's hair and planted down on his slender back, between his bound arms. He raised his right arm and smacked Steve on the ass. Steve whined. "Hey doll, follow the rules," Barnes corrected him mildly. He took another swing and when his palm hit Steve choked out "Tony." 

Tony froze, unsure how to react. Was Barnes mocking him? Was he really about to torture Steve? Was Steve in on this, and it was a sadistic 'fuck you' to Tony before they rode off into the sunset together?" 

The next thwack made Steve's entire body jerk. "Tony," he obediently moaned. Barnes picked up the pace, and made Steve's thin, bony butt turn cherry red until Steve was sobbing out Tony's name. 

"What the hell are you watching?" Pepper said, confused and disgusted, from across the jet's cabin. 

"Put your headphones on!" Tony growled, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen. 

Barnes stopped when Steve was a crying, wrecked mess. He rolled him over on his thighs so that Steve was sitting on Barnes' lap with his erection pointed towards the camera. 

"If I recall correctly, he can't tell a lie when he's this wound up," Barnes said, and yes, Tony knew that was the truth. "Do you love your Tony, Steve?" 

Steve was still crying, quietly, but answered, "Yes." 

"Open your eyes, baby," Barnes said, stroking Steve's sweat-damp hair back on his forehead. Steve obeyed. "Look right at the camera. Your fella's watching. Probably not sure whether this is meant to be an apology letter or a snuff film. Let 'im look you in the eyes, and tell him how you really feel." 

Steve clenched his eyes shut with a muttered, "Fuck," then opened them again, staring directly into the lens. "Tony, Tony, I love you. I know you don't want me to, I know you just wanted to fool around, but I've loved you for a long time. I love Bucky, too, but I still-" 

Bucky choked him off by pulling his hair harshly with his metal hand. "You don't get it, Rogers," he said, voice and eyes hardened by the coldness of the Soldier. "Tony is your future. Bucky Barnes, as he was, is gone. Stop pining, and open your eyes to see that that man fucking loves you back!" His flesh hand moved to grip Steve's dick, which had softened. Steve's eyes rolled back, but his hips jerked up. 

"Who gave you a home when you were lost in this scary new world?" Barnes asked. 

"Tony," Steve answered, biting his lip. "I told you that already." 

"I want you to tell him that, dummy," Barnes replied, the last of the ice melting from his expression as he rolled his eyes. "You're such a stupid, stubborn bastard. That's why the Army gave you so many shiny medals; you think the smart guys get that much gleam?" He pointed a metal finger at the camera. "Look at it, and use your fucking grown-up words to communicate your feelings. Tell him." 

Steve tried to wrestle his hands free from where they were tied behind his back. "Then stop jacking me off, you piece of shit, so I can concentrate!" 

Tony closed his mouth. He was pretty sure his jaw had dropped as he watched the two men interact as they must have back when they were friends in the goddamn silent movie age. Barnes' entire body had lost tension, and he was just draped over the chair, clutching Steve to him like he was a life size rag doll. 

Steve's adorable face with its floppy blond bangs hanging into his eyes turned back to to camera lens. "You did give me a home, Tony. You became my friend, we started messing around an' I fell in love with you." 

"...But you never told him because you were scared," Barnes added, locking his gaze with the camera. "Probably my fault. I didn't take it well the first time he told me. Different time, and I was scared to admit to the truth and what that made me. We went to war without me ever saying it back. Eventually managed to get back to being friends, though we never mentioned that we had ever been more than that." 

"Bucky," Steve said softly, turning his head and looking at the side of Barnes' neck that his face was pressed against. 

Barnes ignored him, though Tony could see a wince the man wasn't able to suppress. His glacial blue eyes still bore through the camera at Tony. "You gotta rein him in. Steve's a wildcat, especially when he's small and thinks he has shit to prove to the world. Maybe you and your friend can make him big again." 

Barnes stood up and dumped Steve on the chair. Steve's face became to take on a look of panic. "Buck? Are you leaving? You can't!" 

"I think I might be able to get my head on straight, now," The man told him. He pulled a smartphone out of a pocket and tapped the screen a few times. "Right on time. I want you two to sort it. Make each other happy. I gotta... get my shit together. That's a thing people say now, right? Accurate." Barnes picked up a duffle and slung a backpack over his other shoulder. "I promise I'll be in touch. Just... not for a while." 

Steve was writhing and shouting, and Barnes had to drop the backpack to sit the squirming blond back in the chair. 

Steve's blue eyes were wide with desperation before Barnes stood up, his body eclipsing Steve's. Tony could hear Steve say, "Buck, you can't go!" 

He also couldn't see Barnes face, but the man's tone was solemn. "You did what you could, but you can't fix all a' me." His back bent and he must have kissed Steve quickly before he swept up both bags and left the room. 

Tony realized his vision was hazy with tears as he saw the stunned, heartbroken look on Steve's face. The hurt morphed into anger, and Steve began to struggle with the ropes that tied his wrists and ankles. "You _motherfucker_!" He screamed in the direction Barnes had left. "You told me to say sorry when it hurts? _It fucking hurts!_ I'm sorry! That what you want me to say? I'm sorry!" 

Tony had to cover his face, but he could hear Steve's yells of rage devolve into pleading, breathless apologies before turning into ragged sobs of grief. 

Tony's phone chirped, startling him. A text from an unknown number said, "Your cabin in Denver." 

Then a cascade of delayed texts from Bruce appeared: _You're watching, right? Locked me out of the feed. They took your quinjet. Do you know where they are? J said S promised B was not going to hurt him. Tony? Are you getting these?_

Tony contacted JARVIS. 

"Sergeant Barnes seemed to be in possession of all his faculties." The AI greeted him. "I was monitoring Captain Rogers, and his biometrics never reached dangerous levels." 

"Did they go to Denver?" He demanded. 

"Yes. If you make a slight adjustment to your flight, you should be there in less than thirty minutes. Shall I alert the FAA of your course change?" 

Tony consented, and alerted the pilot. 

Pepper perked up and removed the headphones in time to hear. "Denver? Why?" 

"Steve's there." He turned away from her look of confusion, and busied himself with tracking the phone Barnes had used to text him. The device was still active, and still in Denver. Tony's mobile pinged, and he read, _I'm not hiding from you. Take care of him, then you can take care of me. However you want._

Tony was baffled. He decided to put Barnes out of his mind and focus on getting to Steve. 

* * *

Tony ditched the plane when they were approaching the city, jumping out in his Iron Man suit. He didn't want anything else to delay him from getting to Steve. 

His Denver house was smart, but did not have a built-in AI. The sensors outside the garage recognized him and unlocked the door. Tony pushed up the faceplate, then opened the door to the house. 

"Steve?" 

"Tony?" Steve's voice was faint, and cracked in the middle from exhaustion. Tony was able to get to the room where he saw the camera set-up, chair, and Steve huddled up on the floor clutching a blanket. 

"You got out of the ropes," Tony said, dumbly. 

Steve shot him a half-hearted glare. "I can still take care of myself, asshole. Buck left a knife for me." 

Tony stood awkwardly for a second, then decided to take off his armor. "So were you in on this plan? Why the hell did you two choose Denver?" 

Steve shrugged. "He said he wanted to get out of the city. I think JARVIS told him that you had decided to go to Las Vegas. Once he knew your flight plan, he timed everything so that you would be here soon after... it all happened." 

"Yeah," Tony said, keeping his face turned away. "Your beau's a real big planner. What the fuck was that whole show meant to prove?" 

"Tony..." 

He didn't want to turn around, but he ended up anyway because of the vulnerability and unhappiness in Steve's voice. What he saw was ridiculous: tiny!Steve with a blanket piled around him, and big blue anime eyes. It was utterly adorable, and tugged painfully on Tony's rusted metaphorical heartstrings. 

"I know I've screwed everything up. I know you didn't want feeling to get involved despite what we were doing-" 

"Jesus Christ, Steve! I am not actually a robot! _Of course_ there were feelings involved! I figured we're both men, so it wouldn't be something we would actually, you know, talk about. You practically choked when you admitted you liked me more for just my body, so was I supposed to take that as a request to recite love poems?" 

Steve pulled the blanket closer around himself and hunched over protectively. "Oh. So I..." Tony turned away again to free himself from the rest of his suit. Steve finished his thought with a small voice. "So I guess I ruined everything." 

"No!" Tony said, whirling around and pointing a finger at him. "You do not get to do this. You do not get to be all... tragic and pathetic. That's bullshit, Steve; that's not you, and you know it. You man up, make a choice, then go after it. Man with a plan, remember?" He was angry, and felt a fierce sense of vindication when Steve's spine straightened up and glared up at him. 

"You don't like me like this," Steve returned, lifting up a skinny arm. 

Tony was rid of his suit and began to pace around the room restlessly, arms gesturing emphatically. "I didn't want you to throw away what you had and do a... a fucking _trust fall_ into the Winter Soldier's arms! I am not the selfish asshole you seem to believe that I am! I actually get concerned when people I care about make poor choices. And this was a really fucking poor choice, Steve. The jury is still out on whether you've helped Barnes recover into a good guy, or have just given more leverage to turn around and tear us down. You basically gave him the password to JARVIS, let him steal a quinjet, and abduct you halfway across the country. Poor. Choices!" 

"Well, I am not sorry!" Steve shot back. 

"Good! I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be honest and stop yanking me around." After less than a minute of being out of the armor, Tony was having it assemble over him again. "Get your shit together. Just like your boyfriend had the good sense to decide to do. Pepper's probably on her way from the airport; you and JARVIS can 'fess up to what you did to her. I need to... go away for awhile." 

* * *

"Bruce? Oh. Hey Clint." 

"That's a warm welcome. I heard you were tiny, but wow." 

"Is Bruce around?" 

"Sounds like he got fed up with the emotional turmoil around here, and fled to get some R&R in Syria, or something. What's been going on?" 

* * *

"It's been a week Tony. Put on your big boy pants and get off of my couch." 

"But Rhodes!" 

"You dump him, or you try to work things out. Two choices." 

"What about Barnes?" 

"Track him. If he's still a bad motherfucker, take him out. If he's trying to pull himself together, then you got a love triangle, so put him on the radar and give SHIELD a heads up. Or join the Bucky Fan Club, and get an orgy going on. Take him out of the picture, take him _out_ , or let Steve make his choice." 

* * *

"So is it as good at flipping burgers as it is at dismantling sedans?" 

Barnes turned around, recognized Tony, then actually gave him a crooked smile. "Better. 360-degree swivel." He demonstrated. "Gotta make sure the glove doesn't get caught between the plates, but that only happened once." 

Tony looked around. "This place is a dive." 

Barnes shrugged, and didn't take offense. "Better places require references. None of my former references are in any condition to take calls inquiring about my attendance and work ethic." 

"I see how we could really get along," Tony admitted. 

"Bet it doesn't make things any easier for you." 

The counter at the all-night diner was separated from the kitchen by a walkway for servers and a short wall. Tony took in the sight of Bucky Barnes wearing a greasy apron and a hair net. It didn't make any more sense even after fifteen minutes of staring. 

"I didn't actually think you'd be here." 

"Well," the former Winter Soldier replied, "Haven't got much to lose, anyway. I finally was able to clear my head and learn about what's going on, so there's a lot less growling and mindless attacking now. Still doesn't mean I have any reason to resist your black ops guys when they come after me." 

"Freedom?" 

"Freedom is an illusion. I got clear of Hydra so I could earn five bucks an hour tossing meat? Pay for a place to stay, and keep me tied down?" 

"I don't suppose you've read any Kerouac?" Tony joked. 

"Nah. I think they fried my brain too much. Can't make sense outta letters for very long." 

"You sound like you're dyslexic." 

"The world really has a name for everything these days." 

"...So does anyone beside you work here? No middle-aged waitress named Margie to take my order?" 

"Phyllis is on a smoke break. She will be back when this order for table eight is steady to go. She has uncanny timing." 

"You've worked here for, what, two weeks?" 

"Basically a lifer, here. Hardly anyone works these shit jobs in the middle of the night for long." 

"Especially not in Idaho. Can we be any farther away from New York?" Tony griped. 

"Thought I would give you your space. Seems like you're the type of guy who is safer at a great distance after getting you mad." 

Tony chuckled. "You wouldn't say that about me if you met my buddy Bruce." 

Barnes tossed the patties onto buns and added the usual garnishes before divvying up a basket of fries between the three plates. A woman bustled in through a side door and grabbed a tray. "Got it," she said, leaving them in her metaphorical dust. 

"Shouldn't she wash her hands before handling food?" Tony asked. 

"She owns this place. Think I'm gonna tell her what to do? I'm enjoying taking a break from dodging hostiles, and I have witnessed what that woman can do with an empty water carafe." 

Tony asked Barnes what was safe to eat. Barnes shrugged, said, "Nothing is particularly _unsafe_ to eat," without any enthusiasm, so when Phyllis returned Tony just asked for a coffee. 

"Stevie doin' alright?" Barnes looked a bit hesitant to bring up the topic. 

Tony shrugged. "Staying safe inside the tower. Hasn't been going out and stirring up trouble, yet. Probably still sulking." 

"'Probably?'" Barnes asks. 

Tony shook his head. "You're not going to get me to talk smack about your best buddy. We both said some shitty things, well, admittedly mostly me, so I thought I would give us some alone time to cool off." 

"I haven't talked to him," Barnes said, scraping burnt scraps off the grill. 

"Didn't say that you had." Tony took the mug Phyllis put down on her way past, and took a sip. He set it back down, politely forcing the mouthful of the brown watery abomination down his throat instead of rudely spewing it all over the counter. See, mother? Manners. 

"I gave you the means to track me. Asked your HAL program to prevent Steve from using it to find me." 

Tony gaped. "How can you make a joke like that?" 

"Well, people on Reddit kinda took the whole 'I died during WW2. What should I watch to catch up with modern society?' question surprisingly seriously." 

"I meant, how can you even compare JARVIS to that 12-bit piece of code? But I liked your answer anyway. Steve does't remember that he needs to say 'Siri' before he asks his phone a question. I've eavesdropped on him whining about how a phone should be literally unable to give him the cold shoulder." 

"Like you would give him an iPhone," Barnes snorted. 

"Someone else at SHIELD did. Probably just to make me have a meltdown. I ended up having to code a mini-JARVIS for Steve's phone, because God forbid he can ask a computer a simple question without turning it into a pleasant conversation about the weather." 

Barnes actually cracked up laughing. He leaned back against the half-wall and had to cover his eyes to calm down. "Steve's a punk. He was pulling your leg. He might not know how TOR works, but he can definitely take a video with a phone." 

"You should go back to New York," Tony said. Barnes looked at him warily. "Really. I'll contact Bruce, he can try to pump Steve up into a super soldier, then you guys can find a place and settle down." 

"Neither of us is the settling down type," Barnes responded. "Besides, I need more time to figure myself out without him around." 

"Why?" 

Barnes dropped his guard and let Tony see a pained look. "I've seen what he said about me, after I died." 

"People always idealize-" Tony started to say. 

"Haven't you noticed that he is stupidly naive when it comes to propaganda? And if it's his own propaganda? The 'heroic' Bucky Barnes: the POW who survived torture with a whistle and wisecracks and lived to kick the Nazis where it hurts? I wasn't that guy even before I fell off that damn train. He's had time to convince himself that the rosy memories are all there ever were. Even if I hadn't been brainwashed for decades, I wouldn't live up to that." 

"So you let him figure it out. He's loyal; it's not like seeing you struggle is going to make him give up," Tony said. 

"It will make _me_ give up," Barnes said, desperately trying to make him understand. "I won't be able meet his expectations, and he'll say it's okay. Even as time passes, I will keep falling short, and he will still say it's okay. But I'm going to get it in my mind that how he wants me to be is how I am supposed to be, and I will _kill_ myself trying to hit that ideal." 

Tony could see the logic, but, "It's Steve. The worst he will do is make sad eyes at you and that disappointed little pout." 

Barnes shrugged, and turned away to talk to a stack of Styrofoam cups. "I learned to change unwanted behaviors pretty fast by reading my handlers' body language. If I didn't catch my mistakes before they did, I got a lot more than a sad look. I need to get a handle on what is expected by normal people and then figure out how I want to fit in. I don't want another handler dictating my behavior, even if it's out of kindness or guilt." 

There was nothing Tony could say that would be equal to that. "You seem to have a very wise and healthy idea of what you need to do. But me, I am so many levels below you on the self-awareness scale: I'm the alcoholic son who grew up hating the guts of his alcoholic father. Maybe you should give _me_ some advice." 

Barnes looked back at him. "You aren't doing that badly. You seemed to have pulled your head out of your ass after being a POW yourself." 

"I was a civilian contractor, so don't give me that distinction. And Steve thought I considered him a casual fuckbuddy after more than half a year of exclusive and highly imaginative sexploits. Emotional health and I are not even on the same continent. Wise guru, bestow unto me some of your divine wisdom." 

There was more than a hint of the original Bucky's cocky smirk in Barnes' smile. "Maybe you need to take a page out of my book. If the most honest you two were to each other was while you were fucking, then start with that. Where you're comfortable. Then incorporate some emotional communication. You think I spanked Stevie in front of you via webcam 'cause I'm a sadist? He needs to get so far out of his head and onto an instinctual level before he can honestly open his mouth about his honest feelings." 

Tony laughed quietly. "I don't think Oprah would approve, but you do know your guy. But I don't get why you would encourage me to get back with Steve when you are in the picture now." 

Barnes' expression turned grim. He tried to turn away quickly enough, but Tony caught it. "You caught me on a good day, Stark. Probably have the devil's own luck. Maybe one day out of every twenty I am this clear-headed. I don't exactly expect to balance myself out before someone other than you catches up to me. The day they do, if it's a good one, I'll eat a bullet before I let them take me again. If not, well... broken once is broken more easily twice. I don't expect I'd get another chance to escape and flip burgers. You go back to him, feed him the 'Bucky just needs some time' line, and keep tabs on me if you feel this torn up about it all." 

Tony felt the true fatalism behind Barnes' facade like a punch to the gut. 

Barnes turned back, and his smile was strained. "Now I've re-opened the Box of Bad Thoughts in my head. I'd appreciate it if you left now. I'm not gonna be decent company for much longer." 

Tony met his eyes and stayed in his seat. "I can handle it." 

"Sure, but I don't want you to," Barnes said, retreating into the back of the restaurant. Tony waited for five more minutes, but the man didn't emerge. He left, sat in the Hertz rental car (he was traveling on the down-low) fiddling with Extremis specs, then went back into the diner about an hour later. He got a raised eyebrow from Phyllis, but her curiosity didn't go far enough for her to actually say anything. He ordered a Coke this time, and watched Barnes stand by the grill like an automaton. He pulled one of Bruce's business cards from his wallet, wrote his private number on it, then slid it across the counter to Phyllis. 

"Bruce Banner, doctor of psychiatry. I worked with him at the veterans' hospital. Let me know if he ever needs any help." 

He wondered if he was screwing things up for Barnes when she gave him a worried look. "He hasn't caused any problems so far." 

"He is not likely to," Tony said quickly, praying that it was true. "But he has a tendency for severe cyclical depression. He's a friend of a friend, and I'm just concerned about him." 

The small plain card disappeared, and Tony left a fifty for his drink then left. 

* * *

"You finally came back." 

"Such a warm welcome, Natasha. I am overcome with emotion." 

"Tony, what is going on with Steve?" 

"Clint, consider this carefully: do you really want to know?" 

"...If you're asking, then probably not. Just make it better. He wanders around looking like Piglet but is as depressing as Eeyore. Fix him." 

"That was just an adorable simile. JARVIS, only grown-up shows for Robin Hood from now on. He can watch that kiddie crap when he is actually with his kids. Avenging is a man's business. ...When it has not already been handled singlehandedly by a much more competent woman." 

"Nice save." 

* * *

Tony opened Steve's door after a tentative knock. "Hey, think we can do the whole reunion thing again? I'll try not to be a complete ass this time." 

Steve was curled up in a wingback chair like the nonagenarian his birth certificate proved he was. He looked at Tony unhappily. "You can give it a try," he said unenthusiastically. 

Tony entered the room and closed the door behind him. "I had been thinking that it was totally obvious that I adored you. Like, literally; when I was old enough to understand that Dad had really known you, I would nag him to tell me about you. He didn't oblige me very often, but if he had had enough to drink he was happy to go on and on-" 

"Tony, you don't need to talk about your father. I know it's a sore subject." 

"Just listen. He would ramble on about flying you over enemy territory and getting shot at, and how you jumped out with a cocky grin and _no fucking parachute_ \- a seriously bad habit that is going to give me a fatal heart attack even before it breaks one of your legs, by the way. Then he'd talk about how you guys made the shield, and all the cool tricks you invented and practiced that gave the laws of physics the proverbial middle finger. He got so pissed off that you managed to ricochet the thing off objects in angles and speeds that were unnatural, even forty years later!" 

"Tony," Steve interjected. 

"Hang on, there's a point to this, I swear. I agree with him about the shield voodoo, by the way. Anyway, he would tell me all these amazing stories and I would listen to all of them, but the one I always asked for was that first day you two met, the day Project Rebirth happened. Of course, Howard wanted to go on and on about the science and the process and the success, but do you know what I loved the most about that story? I loved the fact that a kid-" 

"I was in my twenties, Tony," Steve insisted, rolling his eyes and trying to hide a smile. 

" _A skinny kid,_ Rogers, I'm telling the story, shut up. A skinny kid walked up to fucking Howard Stark with all the determination and courage and gumption in the world and stepped into a bizarre metal coffin without any hesitation. And when everybody got scared, that kid was the only one who had the guts to tell everyone to see the thing through. It wasn't about the miracle of science that came out of the chamber, Steve, though I really do enjoy that miracle of science, preferably when it's holding me down and rocking my world. For me, it was all about that kid who had the biggest balls of any man or woman in that room. Even though he was probably afraid, even though everybody had already written him off, even though nobody thought he would ever survive the process; that kid was the reason the experiment succeeded. I knew by the age of six that that kid had to be special. I knew by nine that that, like me, that kid had probably been overlooked by most of the people he encountered." 

"Tony," Steve interrupted again, this time sympathetically. 

Tony grinned back at him. "And I knew at fifteen that I wanted to be kissed by a guy like that. And at nineteen-" 

"I get the point!" 

Tony crossed the remaining distance between them and knelt on the floor by Steve's chair. "And I knew, the first time we kissed, that I had been right about that kid my whole life, and I had been waiting for you my _whole damn life._

"So don't think that I couldn't want you like this, or as a crotchety old man, or as a freakng Fench poodle, because when I love you, Steve Rogers, I love that stubborn, idiotically brave, sanctimonious asshole who didn't bend over for anyone. Except for me. And Bucky, but he's cool." 

Steve was laughing through his tears. "I can't believe you!" 

"I can be romantic as shit," Tony said, waggling his eyebrow lasciviously. "Now, will you finally let me cuddle your adorable twink body?" 

"Shut up," Steve said, but he unfolded himself from the chair and slipped down into Tony's lap and let the man wrap his arms around him. 

"You didn't ruin anything, baby," Tony said, cradling Steve's head under his chin. "You just have a lot of love for both me and Bucky, and a lack of patience. I'm just a hard-drinking, hard-working asshat who tends to let good things slip through his fingers, if I don't simply push them as far away from me as I can because of my issues." 

"Are you still mad about Bucky?" 

"Not about Bucky. About you risking your damned life on a poorly thought out scheme, yeah. Telling me only when I was already out of the way, when Bruce insisted on it. That made me feel like I wasn't worth anything to you in comparison to him. That I had just imagined that there was more between us, and it had just been delusion on my part that you cared about me back." 

"I love you," Steve said insistently, squeezing Tony's ribs with his skinny arms. 

"I'm a genius, Steve. I figured that out myself. But then I let my shitty self-esteem make me doubt it."

**Author's Note:**

> The spanking just snuck itself in here. Really. It was all Barnes' idea, even though it makes no sense to the plot. He's going to be trouble.


End file.
